But, as he did so, he found breath for a
trumpet-bark that sounded more like a rallying cry.
For, dulled as were his ears, they were still keener than any
human's. And they had caught the sound of eight flying paws amid
the dead leaves of the drive. Wolf and Bruce, coming home at a
leisurely trot, from their ramble in the forest, had heard the
two reports of the shotgun; and had broken into a run. They read
the meaning in Lad's exhausted bark, as clearly as humans might
read a printed word. And it lent wings to their feet.
Around the corner of the house tore the two returning collies. In
a single glance, they seemed to take in the whole grisly scene.
They, too, had had their bouts with marauding swine; and they
were still young enough to enjoy such clashes and to partake of
them without danger.
The sow, too blind with pain and rage to know reinforcements were
coming to the aid of the half-dead hero, tore forward. The
Mistress, with both hands, sought to drag Lad behind her. The
maids screeched in plangent chorus.
Then, just as the sow was launching herself on the futilely
snapping Lad, she was stupidly aware that the dog had somehow
changed to three dogs.
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